Never Miss A Second
by ASkinner49
Summary: I'm Meredith Elaine Blount. I am reserved, quick-witted, and apparently the arch-rival of the Queen of Hogwarts. I may have befriended the King of Hogwarts himself, James Potter, but I have to admit, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. At least I got the title of 'Hogwarts's Number One Duelist Extraordinaire' out of it. (sequel-ish to Every Second Counts)
1. Chapter 1

**November 2019 – Fourth Year**

James Sirius 'effing Potter.

_Who_ does he think he is?

I know _what_ he is. A bloody prat, that's what.

And honestly, who does he think he is that he can just do things like this and not piss anyone off. I can only gather that he doesn't care if he does.

That pisses me off even more.

I furiously brush out my freshly cleaned and dried hair. I even made an effort on my hair this morning and _he_ had to go and ruin it.

I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. Even with the extra effort, my hair this morning doesn't look any different than it does right now without the effort: straight as a board with not even a hint of a wave. Even though Mum says plenty of girls would kill for hair like mine, I still wish it did something. I kind of find it boring.

What I didn't have in mind was James Sirius 'effing Potter coming in and spraying jam all over the Great Hall at breakfast. I didn't have time to get back to Gryffindor Tower before my first class and I had to sit through History of Magic with strawberry jam in my hair.

I gotta admit, though. The look on Professor Chang's face was priceless.

And Potter got detention.

Justice.

That doesn't change the fact that I am furious that he filled my hair with jam, even if it was inadvertently. I had to skive off Muggle Studies to clean it all out since I didn't fancy spending my lunch break doing so. I need to work on my Star Chart for Astronomy during that time since we have class tonight and I'll probably have extra Muggles Studies homework since I missed class.

Prat. He's definitely going to pay for this. Thankfully, I'm on fairly good terms with the Muggle Studies professor, so she probably won't give me detention when I explain what happened later.

The door to the fourth year girl's dorm opens and I look over my shoulder to see the one thing that could have made this morning even worse.

"Julia," I acknowledge, placing my brush on my dresser.

"Meredith," she responds. Her snooty voice grates my nerves and I force myself to take a breath before turning around and gathering my things for Defense.

I really don't have any real reason for why I don't like Julia Carter. We've been roommates for three and a half years and I just can't stand to hear her speak. She has a tendency to say nasty things about other girls and she is Queen of the Rumor Mills of Hogwarts, but I'm not really a part the gossip chain she supports, so I've never been directly affected by her. It's probably hard to talk about someone you don't know anything about. I keep to myself mostly. I don't really have any friends.

Maybe I'm just being too introverted. I glance over at Julia applying a layer of powder over her face. Maybe we could be friends if I actually spoke to her. "Do you want to walk to Defense together?"

Julia turns and gives me a strange look. It strikes me as a cross between annoyance and pity. She doesn't say anything, but nods and picks up her school bag.

The walk to class is just about the most awkward I've ever experienced. Neither of us says anything to each other, and while I enjoy a comfortable silence, this is anything but.

Definitely not one of my best ideas.

I am very much relieved when we finally arrive at our Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I rush in and quickly find my normal seat in the middle of the room.

I don't talk to anyone. No one talks to me.

Julia walks in behind me and sits herself next to her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

Wonderful. Weasley's here which means…

"Bloody hell, Finnigan! Do you have to rub it in?"

"Merlin, James. You don't have to shout."

I roll my eyes and do my best to ignore them.

Unfortunately, James Sirius Potter and his crew are not to be ignored. He's so incredibly loud I can't even hear myself think.

"Could you have at least backed me up this morning? You were in on it, too."

"True, but I like to avoid detention as much as possible."

"Some mate you are." I chance a glance in their direction and see Potter pouting. What a baby. I shake my head and start pulling out my things for class.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sitting with you, today, you tosser." I smirk and keep my head down. Eavesdropping isn't something that I mean to do, it just happens… when the person you're listening to shouts everything.

There's a thump to my left. Surprised, I move my eyes to the space next to me and see a stack of books stuffed with spare parchment. No one usually sits next to me.

I look up fully and see none other than Potter grinning at me cheekily. "Mind if I sit here today?"

Bullocks. What do I do? I really don't want him to sit there, but there's no way to say that without sounds incredibly rude. I mean, I don't have to talk to him.

I shrug.

"Brilliant." Potter flops himself down in the seat next to me and immediately leans his chair back on the back legs. "Meredith Blount, right?"

I look at him again and nod silently.

"I'm James Potter," he says unnecessarily, holding out his hand. I shake it, smirking in disbelief at his introduction. Does he really think I don't know who he is? He's the oldest son of Harry Potter! Who wouldn't know who he is?

Maybe he's just being polite?

No way. This is James 'effing Potter. He's not polite. He's a prat.

Potter gives me an odd look, cocking his head slightly. "You know, you can talk to me, right?"

I shrug again and turn myself forward and return to pulling out my supplies for class. If I make it clear I don't want to talk to him, maybe he'll just leave me alone. It usually works on other people.

But Potter is not other people.

"Can I borrow a quill?" I sigh and hand over one of the quills I pulled out. "And some ink?" I rub my forehead and hand over a pot of black ink without a word. "Thanks."

I glance at my watch and groan inwardly as I realize I still have five minutes left before class starts. I just want to sit here quietly, but James Potter has other plans.

"How come you never sit with anyone? Class is way more interesting when you have someone to talk to." Ugh. Seriously? Can't he just leave me alone?

"I actually like to learn during class, thanks," I say finally looking to him once more.

Potter returns all four legs of his chair to the floor, runs his hand through his messy hair, and grins broadly. "So she does speak." I roll my eyes at him. "And has sass," he adds raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Shut it, or I'm going to take my quill back."

Potter laughs lightly and holds up the quill I handed him before. "I'd gladly give it back. It doesn't look like it's in the best shape."

It's true. I gave him one of my older quills. It's rather dull and the feather is a little… well, ruffled. I wasn't about to give him one of my better ones.

"You could sharpen it yourself if you're so upset about it," I snip back. This is ridiculous. I'm helping him out and he's being a right prick about it.

"Right… I didn't bring my own quill to class, but you think I brought something to sharpen a quill with." I give him an unamused look. "Do you have a sharper one?" Without permission, Potter reaches over and grabs the two other quills I pulled out and looks at them. He holds the three quills tip-up in front of his face.

All three are dull.

Potter raises an eyebrow at me and I snatch the quills away from him with a scowl. "I really hate writing with quills, alright? There's too much work that goes into taking care of them." He better be careful. I'm already angry with him and he's not making that any better.

"Alright, alright," he replies holding his hands up in mock surrender.

I just cross my arms and sniff hard in frustration, looking dead ahead. I'm giving him all the normal signs that I am not happy and would like him to shut up.

"Weren't you supposed to be in Muggle Studies this morning? I don't think I've ever seen you miss a class."

Merlin, he's thick. He's not going to leave me alone. I'm not even being subtle about how much I don't want to talk to him.

Before I can respond, Professor Gaines arrives and the rest of the class finds their way to their seats. I take a much needed calming breath and focus my attention on the teacher.

"Good morning, class," he wheezes, stumping down the aisle on my right towards the front of the room. Professor Gaines reaches his desk at the front and turns slowly to face us. "You have all made great progress so far this year and I must say I have been very impressed with several of your performances." I smile to myself. I aced our last practical and getting a little recognition for that feels pretty good.

"Since this is the case we will…"

A poke in my left side almost causes me to almost call out in alarm. I throw a glare towards Potter and he smiles like the cheeky bastard he is. "So why weren't you in class?" he whispers.

"I had to take care of something," I hiss back, evasively. "Now, shut up. I'm trying to listen." While I would love to tell Potter off for being the reason I missed class, it will have to wait.

"… and Shield Charms. I think this has made each of you quite ready for…"

"Something?" he whispers again. "Care to be a little more specific?"

"What's it to you? You don't even know me." Potter falls silent and I direct my attention back towards the hunched figure droning on before us.

"… but keep in mind that this isn't a game and you should all be aware that…" I have no idea what he's talking about. This is all Potter's fault. If he wasn't trying to annoy me, I wouldn't be so lost.

"Aren't I trying to now?" Potter asks with a note of confusion in his voice.

I am slightly taken aback at his words and his tone. I look to my left and see Potter looking at me with his head cocked again. Why would he be trying to get to know me?

The sound of scraping chair legs across stone floor brings my attention back to the class. People are standing and seem to be pairing up for something. My anger at Potter returns in full force.

"Thanks, Potter," I say sarcastically. "Now I have no idea what's going on."

"We're pairing up to duel," he says simply.

I stare at him for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"Professor Gaines just said so."

I continue to stare at him, dumbfounded. How did he catch that? He was talking the whole time. Potter turns towards the back of the class where he and his mates normally sit. Julia has already paired up with Weasley and Finnigan has paired with Thomas, leaving Potter the odd-man-out.

I look around for a partner for myself, but to my horror, there is no one else available.

"Looks like we're a pair," Potter states.

Bullocks.

I'm paired with Potter? Merlin, what did I do that today has to be so awful?

"Blount?" I face Potter. He's looking at me, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"Perfect," I say somewhat nastily. "It's always been my dream to be paired with you during class."

Potter straightens up slightly and frowns. "No need for that," he says before jutting his thumb over his shoulder, indicating his mates at the back of the room. "If you don't want to duel me I'll just ask Phil or Roger to switch with me…"

"No!" I exclaim, suddenly smiling. An idea has just formed in my mind. This is the perfect opportunity to get back at this smug prick.

Potter opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything. "Okay, then," he finally replies after a moment.

I smirk. Since we've been in school, this is the first time I've ever seen James Potter speechless. We set ourselves up in the center aisle facing each other.

Potter appears to be studying me closely. His eyebrows are slightly contracted and his mouth is set. "Are we going to do this or not?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.

He shakes his head slightly and pulls his wand out of the pocket of his robes. "Alright. Let's go."

I pull my own wand out and take our dueling stances, waiting for signal to start. I am determined to win. Potter won't know what hit him.

"Begin," Gaines signals.

I quickly cast a Shield Charm and I can feel Potter's hex bounce off harmlessly. He raises his eyebrows at me, apparently impressed. "You're quick," he compliments, but he doesn't have a chance to say anything else as I begin my offensive.

"_Stupefy!_" Potter dodges easily, but is forced to cast his own Shield as I throw a Stinging Jinx at him immediately afterward.

Potter does his best to parry my blows, but he's falling behind. I continue my assault, fueled by my frustration with him. Both of our faces are grim. I see the sweat on the sides of his face and can feel the sweat on mine.

"You know this is just supposed to be simple dueling, right?" Potter manages between casting spells.

"Sorry, Potter. You're not getting off easy with me!" I shout back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Unlike the rest of the school," I start shielding myself and casting another hex, "I don't worship the ground you walk on."

"Who says that they do?"

"It's common knowledge, you daft idiot!" I'm not sure where this is all coming from. It's completely out of character for me to act this way with anyone. "Do you think that you would be able to do half the stupid crap you pull if they didn't think you were some sort of god?"

"I don't ask them to!" he defends, dodging another of my spells.

"You don't have to!" I feel the adrenaline pumping through me. It's probably to blame for my behavior at this moment, but I can't stop. "And you don't try to stop them! You just go around doing whatever the hell you want and not caring who's affected and how."

I pause briefly, pretending to catch my breath and Potter smirks triumphantly and sends a hex at me. I throw up a Shield to deflect the blow and am pushed back a few inches at the force of the blow.

I make eye contact with Potter and throw on a smirk of my own as I remove the Shield an instant after his attack and immediately counter. "_Stupefy!_"

I watch with no little satisfaction as Potter realizes he has been duped; that he has lost.

And to a girl.

My spell hits him in the chest and sends him flying backwards several feet, unconscious. Raucous applause and cheering breaks out around me and I realize the entire class stopped their own duels to watch ours. I blush causing my already flushed face to redden further.

Every fourth year in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw just watched me take down the James Potter.

Weasley is leaning over Potter with a smug grin on his face saying something to him. Weasley must have revived him while I wasn't looking because Potter flips him off and sits up rubbing his back.

"Excellent work!" Professor Gaines arrives at my side and places a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. "I've never seen a finer duel from fourth years. Many fully qualified wizards cannot perform that well."

Potter walks up to us and extends his hand to me, again. "I gotta say, Blount that was something."

I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Thank you, Potter. You didn't do too bad, yourself."

The crowd of students starts breaking up and returning to their own seats. Professor Gaines pats my shoulder twice and makes his way back to the front of the room.

"I would like to thank Mr. Potter and Miss Blount for such an impressive display." Potter winks at me and gives me a thumbs-up as we sit back in our seats. "I want to take the rest of our time today breaking down the different strategies each of them used and the advantages and disadvantages of each." Gaines flicks his wand at the chalkboard and the piece of chalk starts writing on its own accord. "First, Miss Blount's Shield-Return strategy…"

Another poke in my left side brings my attention to a rather bemused-looking Potter propping his head up on his desk with his left arm and facing me. "I didn't think you would be that good," he whispers.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I whisper back. "Because that sounds more like an insult, to be honest."

Potter smiles and closes his eyes for a second. "Sorry. I just didn't take you for the dueling type. You usually are so reserved."

"You just don't know me well enough to know what type of person I am." Potter nods, conceding the point. We don't say anything for the rest of the class.

Class lets out twenty minutes later and I pack my belongings back into my school bag and sling it over my right shoulder. I turn to leave, but Potter grabs my arm. I look to him questioningly. "I'm sorry if I ever did anything that made you angry," he says to me, awkwardly. He's obviously not used to apologizing.

I can tell his apology is sincere, even though he doesn't know what specific event he's apologizing for. I give him a half-smile. "Thanks. I just really don't want to have to wash jam out of my hair, again."

His eyes widen in realization and he gives a little laugh of disbelief looking at the desk he was just sitting in. "Bloody hell," he says, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. "Sorry." He looks up to me and smiles. "Why'd you let me sit next to you if you were so annoyed with me?"

I shake my head. "I have no idea," I admit. "I didn't want you to, but I guess my desire to not come off as rude trumped my annoyance in that moment."

Potter's stomach growls loudly and we both look at each other.

We burst into laughter simultaneously.

"James!" someone calls from the doorway of the classroom. We look towards the door trying to stifle further giggles and see Roger Thomas looking confused at the two of us. "James, I'm starving. Can we please go to lunch, now?"

Potter looks back to me. "Do you mind if we eat lunch with you today?" he asks, smiling widely.

I stare at his hopeful expression for a second. He's waiting expectantly, hands in his pockets and wild hair stick up in every direction.

Is this real life?

Did James Sirius Potter just ask to eat lunch with me? Only half an hour ago I was throwing curses at him with everything I had and now he's asking to sit with me like we're friends.

I stunned him and left him on his back on the floor!

Honestly, I'm less surprised with the fact that he wants to sits with me than I am with my thoughts on the situation: I actually want to sit with him.

I return his smile. "I don't mind at all, Potter."

His smile widens. "Call me James."

* * *

**A/N** \- This story is somewhat of a sequel to my other story, Every Second Counts. This will be based on the same set of events, but from Meredith's point of view and will also be showing some missing moments and memories referenced in ESC. You don't have to read the other to enjoy this one... especially the first couple of chapters! Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

"So, Blount." I look up from my plate and see Weasley eyeing me curiously. "How did you manage to knock down the bloke with the biggest head in all of Hogwarts?" Weasley's question brings Thomas and Finnigan's attention to me.

I glance over at Potter (well… James) to my right. He's rolling his eyes while still stuffing crisps into his mouth. I'm sitting next to James and Weasley is sitting across from me with Julia to his right and Finnigan and Thomas to his left.

I've been sitting in an awkward silence since we arrived. I don't really mind James being around, but I don't know Weasley, Finnigan, or Thomas at all bringing me back to my awkwardly quiet self. I am relieved someone said something, but I wish that it hadn't been directed at me.

I look back to Weasley who is smirking at James and say the first thing that comes to mind. "That big head just makes him off-balance. It was pretty easy, to be honest."

I feel a slight blush start crawling up my neck as the three boys across the table stare at me, mouths slightly agape. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I probably should have just shrugged. I tuck my head, embarrassed. The silence from the group I'm eating with is stressing me out.

I chance a peek up after a moment and a wall of sound hits me as all three of the boys across the table stand and shout, "Oooooooh!"

James has his arms crossed and is obviously not amused as his friend's laughter fills the Hall and causes more people to stare at our group. Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas are leaning on each other for support as they laugh even harder. Weasley manages to reach over the table to offer me a high-five. I cautiously meet his hand with my own, slightly startled by their reaction to my words.

"Excuse my mates," James says, annoyed. "They're all idiots."

Thomas flicks a bit of bread from his sandwich at James's head and says, "What are you talking about? You're the idiot who got detention this morning."

"Yeah!" Finnigan chimes in. "And can't we just have a laugh. This is the first girl I've ever heard insult you, and it's quite refreshing."

"Having every female in Hogwarts falling over themselves to be with you is getting quite old, James," Weasley says, sitting back down next to Julia. Weasley hasn't so much as looked at her since we sat down for lunch and I can tell she's not happy about it.

Not that it's hard to tell. She's glaring at him so hard, I'm surprised her eyes haven't popped out of her head.

Julia grabs her boyfriend's arm while his back is to her and he immediately closes his eyes and purses his lips. He wasn't ignoring her on accident it would seem.

Taking a breath, Weasley turns to her with a forces smile and asks, "What's up, Jules?"

"Can we go, Freddie?" she asks batting her eyelashes.

"Why don't you go ahead?" he suggests, a hint of hopefulness in his voice. "I'll catch up later."

"No, Freddie," Julia says, standing and forcing Weasley to his feet by his arm. "Let's go, now."

"Sure, Jules," Weasley says, giving in. "We'll go now." He throws James, Finnigan, and Thomas a two-finger salute as he departs and adds, "Glad we could join you today, Blount," while he is practically dragged out of the Hall by Julia.

The four of us watch Weasley and Julia's forms disappear out the door. "Why doesn't he just ditch her?" Finnigan asks.

"She's awful!" Thomas complains placing his forehead on the table.

"She's not that bad, guys," James says, brushing some crumbs off his robes. Finnigan and Thomas give each other a look and Thomas places his forehead back on the table with a louder *thud*. Suddenly, James's head shoots up and turns towards the door. In walks the dream of Hufflepuff House herself, Yvette Montclair, high heels clicking loudly and blonde curls bouncing. "I'll be right back."

James stands up, climbs over the bench, and walks towards the entrance with his typical annoyingly arrogant aura. I watch his progress and roll my eyes as he greets Yvette with a winning smile.

"So it begins, again," Thomas moans. He has turned so his temple is resting on the table in front of him allowing him to watch James talk up Yvette.

Finnigan and I continue to watch as James and Yvette flirt shamelessly on their way to the Hufflepuff table. "Wanker," Finnigan says under his breath. "He's actually going to sit with her right now?"

"He said he'd be right back," I try, hoping that it was true.

Thomas starts hitting his head against the table lightly. "He always says that," Finnigan explains, facing me. "He just gets so caught up with the girl he decides he's going to go for, he completely ignores us for about a week."

Thomas stops his head-to-table routine long enough to say, "I thought he said he wasn't going to ditch us in the middle of a meal anymore."

"I know," Finnigan agrees. "I thought, because he wanted to sit with you, Blount, that he would actually stick around."

My heart sinks, slightly. Was James just trying to tease me? Was this all some sort of prank he was pulling on me? "Why would he stick around just because I'm here? He doesn't even know me."

Finnigan and Thomas glance at each other and back to me. "Well," Thomas starts slowly. "You're the first girl he's ever asked to sit with at lunch with us around. He usually gets up and leaves us behind."

"I guess I just assumed that…" Finnigan trails off and rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "James, he… he likes to go for the pretty girls with no brains, but I was hoping that him taking in interest in you was a sign that he'd changed. I mean, he's never gone for a girl with intelligence and…" He trails off again watching my face.

I've done the best I could to keep myself together while the two of them were talking. Renewed anger with James bubbles within me mixed with hurt from… well, I'm not sure why I feel hurt. I guess I just feel used. He used me for a little entertainment before something more interesting came along. I take a shuddering breath, stand up, and climb over the bench without a word.

"Blount, wait!" Thomas stands up makes to walk after me.

"No, Thomas," I say, turning halfway back to him and Finnigan as I sling my school bag over my shoulder. "I'm fine. Thanks for sitting with me. Maybe I'll talk to you later." And with that, I leave the two boys sitting at the table and exit the Great Hall alone focusing on the floor.

A strange feeling washes over me as I walk past my lunching peers. I'm very used to being ignored or only partially acknowledged, but I suddenly feel as if half the school is staring at me. As I reach the door to leave, I look up and notice many sets of eyes quickly divert away from me. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and turn my back to the Hall and walk out into the corridor.

That was odd.

I hear a pattering of footsteps behind me as someone runs out of the hall. The steps pause briefly then resume as the person starts jogging down the hall after me. I instinctively move to the left to walk along the wall, making room for the person behind me so we don't collide.

"Meredith!" I stop walking and turn around, surprised. James slows down as he catches up to me and stops himself next to me. I look around him and see papers which escaped his bag as he ran slowly settling onto the stone floor of the corridor. I lift an eyebrow at him and he turns himself, sees the literal paper trail behind him, and laughs. "Oops. _Accio homework._"

The papers fly towards him and form a messy pile in his hand. James proceeds to unceremoniously stuff the loose parchment into his bag.

"What?" I ask as he tries to close his school bag completely.

James looks up as he fumbles with the clasp on his bag. "What do you mean 'what'?" he asks before focusing his attention back on his stubborn bag clasp. "I thought we could walk back to the Common Room together."

"And why would you want that?" I ask harshly. "There seems to be so many other things that you would rather focus your attention on than your mates."

James finally manages to clasp his bag shut and adjusts it on his shoulder. It looks like he's thinking hard to try to figure out what I'm talking about.

I roll my eyes at him and start walking away, heading towards the Common Room once more. "Wait! Meredith!" he jogs a few steps to catch up with me and falls into pace beside me. "I really don't know what you're talking about. I honestly like spending time with my friends."

"Is that really true, Potter?" I spit out his surname and I see him flinch slightly. "I don't really believe you think of me as a friend."

"But-"

"I don't know what you want from me, but I don't want to play this game," I say, cutting him off. "I'm not going to let you mess with me."

"Meredith-"

"If this is just supposed to be a laugh for you-"

"That's not it at all," he says, frustrated. His voice has become more serious and I look to him skeptically. "I might not know you very well, but I want to, okay? I want to be your friend."

"Maybe I don't want to be yours!" I yell, stopping. James stops along with me with a truly alarmed look.

"What-"

"If you really wanted to get to know me and be my friend, why did you just walk off with no intention of returning, hmm?" James opens his mouth slightly, but no words come out. "Finnigan and Thomas may just deal with it, but I'm not going to. I may not have many friends, but I don't want them if they're just going to treat me like dung the moment something 'pretty' and 'shiny' and 'new' comes along and distracts them."

"I don't do that," James says defensively.

"Don't you?" I ask. For the second time today, my anger and frustration completely overtake me and I let them drive my words and actions. "If you're not even aware of it, that's even worse. Go ask your 'mates' about it, then tell me if you don't."

I stalk away from James and walk as fast as I can. He doesn't follow. I don't know if I'm happy about that or not.

I arrive at the Common Room about ten minutes later, having gotten delayed by a particularly stubborn door on the fifth floor. "_Billywig._" The Fat Lady's portrait swings open to admit me, but I am tempted to immediately turn around and shut it when my eyes meet James's across the Common Room. I force myself to climb through the hole into the room.

James pushes himself off the wall he was just leaning on and walks towards me cautiously. I get the same feeling that I felt in the Great Hall and a quick glance to my left results in more diverted eyes.

So it wasn't a fluke before. People are actually staring at me.

I shift the strap on my school bag and straighten up to my full five-foot-six height as James reaches me. He is only slightly taller than me making it easy to meet his eyes and I look into his face defiantly. I'm not going to let him walk all over me. He does that to everyone else in this bloody school and since I'm on speaking terms with him, now, I'm going to make sure he knows that.

After a moment looking at me expressionlessly, James looks at the floor and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I asked Phil and Roger about that." He lifts his head just enough to look up at me

I lift by brows and nod urging him to continue.

"Well…" he shuffles his right foot, looking back at the carpet. "I was… wrong." The words are forced and seem foreign in his mouth. He's apparently even less familiar with this admission than with apologizing. "I'm sorry."

I take a breath. I wasn't expecting this from James Sirius Potter: resident egomaniac of Hogwarts.

"The two of them weren't very excited to be telling me the truth," he admits without looking at me. "I may have shouted."

"Thank you, James," I say when it's obvious he's not going to say anything else.

James looks at me fully and smiles. He has a nice smile. "What took you so long to get here?"

I look at him, confused. "What do you mean? I got here as fast as I could."

He smirks and says, "It took you fifteen minutes to get from the Great Hall to the Common Room."

I scrunch my face. "I was having a particularly nasty run-in with a door on the fifth floor," I explain moving past him and sit down on a nearby sofa.

James follows me and laughs loudly. "Why didn't you just threaten to duel it? It probably would have gotten out of the way quick."

"I did have to threaten to blast it open before it finally let me through."

James laughs again and flops down on the sofa throwing his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. "That door wouldn't know what hit it. No one wants to get in the way of Hogwarts's Number One Duelist Extraordinaire." He winks at me, playfully.

"Riiiight. And just when did I become such a well-known figure in the school?"

"Today," he states, simply. "Not just anyone could knock me out, you know."

"I don't believe you were 'Hogwarts's Number One Duelist Extraordinaire' before today."

"Maybe not," he admits without pause, "but you'll still be that after today, because I say so."

I roll my eyes and lean over to pull out my Astronomy Homework out of my bag. James is looking at me, appalled. "What?" I ask, when I see his expression. "I have to get this completed before class tonight."

His appalled look changes into panic. "Damn! Today's Wednesday?"

"All day," I say evenly. I pull out a quill and a pot of ink and frown, holding the quill in front of me and examine the dull tip. "Merlin, I hate quills."

"Here," James says handing me a new quill.

I look at him with an annoyed expression. "You had one in your bag the whole time? Why did you ask for one during Defense?" I look down as he rummages through his own bag, crumpled parchment and books threatening to spill out. "Never mind. I think I found my answer."

"Ah ha!" James sit back upright with a very crumpled piece of parchment in his hand. He smooths his star chart out on the coffee table and looks at me. "Do you mind if we work on this together?"

I give him a half smile. "Fine," I say with fake exasperation.

James and I sit in the common room and work on our Star Charts rather diligently. A couple of times, I see him starting to draw something on the edge of his chart, but he stops drawing when I ask him about it.

I hear something faint through the stone walls and look towards the door wondering what I am hearing. "How do I have three instances of Ursa Major on here?" James wonders out loud, but I shush him quickly.

The sound through the wall is getting louder. Someone is practically screaming right outside the Common Room. The room is quiet as we try to make the words out, but to no avail. "What in Merlin's name is-" James holds up his hand to stop me as the higher pitch screaming transitions to a lower pitch yelling at the same volume.

"Fred." Without another word, he shoots off the couch and races to the portrait hole. I follow behind, curiosity getting the better of me.

James pushes hard on the backside of the portrait and it flies open allowing the room to hear Weasley's words clearly. "-tell you that that was out of the question? Nothing you'd be able to say would ever change that." We climb out into the corridor and see Fred and Julia standing about ten feet apart and shooting murderous glares at one another.

"Do you realize that I'm your _girlfriend_?" Julia's voice screeches. "If you think I'm going to let some bimbo come in and take you away-"

"Are you daft?" Weasley yells back. "It was just lunch and James invited her!"

The small crowd that formed around the couple immediately look in my direction and I shrink back against the wall. James looks around to me with an apologetic look before returning his attention to the fight in front of him.

"And who knows what it's going to be after that?"

"What are you talking about? Sharing a space at a meal with someone doesn't suggest anything."

"Oh, sure. And that's why you spent more time talking to her and your dumb arse mates than to me."

"Are we back on this, again? I told you that I am never going to leave my friends no matter how often or loud you tell me to."

"And what about Blount? She's scheming to take you away from me."

"Oh, bloody hell. I don't even know her!"

"And you shouldn't get to know her! She's just a smug bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else."

My eyes widen at her words. Where did that come from?

"Funny," Weasley spits back. "I could say the same thing about you!"

A heavy silence settles over the corridor at his words. I can practically feel shock as it hits Julia.

"What did you just say to me?" she says dangerously.

"I'm sorry," he mock-apologizes. "Did I misspeak? I'm fairly certain that I just called you a smug bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else."

All eyes are on Julia.

She smiles. "Now, Freddie. You don't mean that."

The attention of the spectating students turns in unison to Weasley. His entire face is flushed and his fists are clenched. "Julia…" he warns through gritted teeth.

"Oh, Freddie, you are just too funny, sometimes. I know you wouldn't mean anything like that." She walks seductively towards him, flipping her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Julia… stop."

Julia arrives at Weasley's side and places her left hand alluringly on his right arm. "But don't you like me Fred?" She asks rubbing his upper arm gently. "I know we have something special."

"No, Julia!" Weasley rips his arm out of Julia's grasp. "Merlin, I can't do this anymore."

Julia takes a step back as Weasley pulls his hair with both his hands in frustration. "What do you mean?"

"Damn it, Julia! I've been putting up with everything you've been doing for far too long. I don't even know why I'm still with you right now!"

"Fred…"

"I really thought there might be a shred of decency in you; that maybe you are actually a good person who lost their way, but that was a stupid thing for me to think. You're nothing but a selfish, manipulating brat and I've had enough of it."

"What are you saying, Fred?"

"I'm saying that I'm breaking up with you, Julia!"

Another silence steals over the watching crowd, punctured by the occasional whisper.

Finding her voice, Julia says, again, "You don't mean that."

Weasley yells loudly in frustration again and paces a few steps to the right and left before turning back to Julia. "I do mean it, Julia!" he shouts at her. "In fact, I mean this a million times more than anything else I have ever said to you." Taking a deep breath, Weasley crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. "We are done. Don't try to talk to me anymore. I really don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

"This isn't over," Julia says to him, voice low and dangerous once again. "You're going to want me back before too long."

"That's another place where's you're wrong, Julia," Weasley explains without moving. "I wouldn't take you back if it was a choice between you or a Muggle wrestling match to the death with the Whomping Willow."

With an ear-splitting scream and a flurry of movement, Julia draws her wand and starts throwing curses and hexes at Weasley. Weasley pulls his own wand just in time to defend himself and Julia's barrage of spells keeps him on the defensive. One of Julia's jinxes hits his wand arm and forces him to drop his wand. The sleeve of Wesley's shirt stretches and rips open, revealed long, animal-like fur growing on his arm where the spell it.

Weasley growls and stoops to pick up his wand, charging at Julia. Fear flickers in her eyes as he approaches.

"_Immobulus!_"

A beam of white light flies out from the crowd behind me and hits Weasley in the back. "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

"Nev… Professor!" James calls, alarmed.

Professor Longbottom bursts through the students crowding the corridor. "Fred Weasley, what is the meaning of this?" he asks furiously, lifting the Freezing Charm.

Weasley regains the ability to move and falls to the floor as he loses his balance. He flips himself into a sitting position, his hand behind him propping him up. Eyes widened, he exclaims, "Professor! I… I…"

The sound of sniffling reaches my ears and I direct my attention to Julia. She is crying, tears streaming down her face causing her mascara to run.

"Fred Weasley, I am very disappointed in you." Professor Longbottom bends down and drags a speechless Weasley up by his arm. "Dueling in the corridors? Attacking a fellow student? I didn't think you would behave like this."

Weasley is still at a loss for words as he stands next to our Head of House. The anger in his face has been completely replaced with bewilderment. Whether it is from realizing what he was just about to do or from the injustice of being completely blamed for a duel where he didn't even throw a single spell, I'm not sure.

"This is unacceptable," Professor Longbottom continues, looking around at the students surrounding him. "Mr. Weasley, you will serve a week of detention with me-"

"Professor, that's not fair!" Weasley finally interjects, but he says no more. I wouldn't either. The look on Professor Longbottom's face makes me think now is not a good time to challenge him.

"You will serve a week of detention with me starting tomorrow night." Professor Longbottom turns to Julia and pats her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Miss Carter, but I have to give you detention, too. I can't let you off since I suspect Mr. Weasley didn't cast that jinx on himself." Julia shakes her head silently. "I see. You will serve detention with Madam Pomfrey. She will send you details about it later."

Professor Longbottom pats Julia on her shoulder in comfort, turns his back on her and proceeds to address the other students in the hall. "I believe we are still in the middle of a school day. Don't you all of somewhere to be?" He walks back up to Weasley and in a low voice adds to him, "You can be sure, Fred, that your parents will hear about this. I cannot allow this kind of behavior from anyone and I know that you should know better."

Oh, yeah. Somehow I completely forgot that the Weasleys and Potters were good friends with Professor Longbottom and his wife.

Professor Longbottom's words are only loud enough for Weasley, James, and me to hear. He looks up, making eye contact with James and me in turn, warning us to not say anything. I shake my head quickly.

James doesn't react.

Professor Longbottom nods at both of us and retreats down the corridor in the direction he came.

"I'm telling you, Freddie," that familiar snooty voice says nearby. Weasley, James, and I all whip our heads towards Julia, now standing only four feet away. "This isn't over. I'm going to get you back no matter what." There is no evidence on her face or in her voice that she had just been crying.

She was faking it.

Julia steps closer to me. I would step back, myself, but my back is still against the wall. James has stepped over to Fred and is discussing something in whispered tones that I can't make out, so when Julia speaks to me, I'm the only one who can hear what she says.

"Don't get full of yourself. You may have won for now, but don't give up until I get what I want," Julia leans in so that her mouth is only a few inches from my ear, "and I want you gone. I'm going to have to ruin you if I want to get Fred Weasley back and I won't stop until that happens." And with that, she walks away, heels clicking ominously on the stone floor.

I look at Weasley and James standing in the middle of the corridor now staring at me. Weasley looks concerned. James, confused. I turn away from him and stare down the hall Julia disappeared down.

What have I gotten myself into?


	3. Chapter 3

**August 2020 – Summer**

"Meredith!"

"Coming, Mum!" I hurriedly pull on and tie my left shoe, grab my Hogwarts letter and bag, and rush out of my room and down the stairs.

Mum is waiting at the door with her arms crossed. Seeing me, she sighs. "I thought you wanted to be on time to meet your friends."

"I'm sorry!" I say back, frustrated. "We can go, now, though."

Mum shakes her head and grabs my hand. She turns, pulling me along with her, and the uncomfortable squeezing sensation surrounds me as we Disapparate.

We materialize at the entrance to Diagon Alley. Letting go of Mum's hand, I take a few deep breaths to steady myself with my eyes closed.

"Mer!"

My eyes shoot open and I see James Potter run towards me waving, arm flailing wildly back and forth and messy black hair flying around his face. I snort loudly as he approaches. He looks ridiculous.

"James! Why are we running?" Behind James I see tell-tale Weasley red hair and a face I recognize. Rose Weasley is trying to catch up to her taller, more athletic cousin as he races towards me.

James rushes up to me and grabs me into a tight bear hug. "Hey James," I manage through my constricted chest. Rose reaches us, but stays back a couple of feet.

"And who is this?" Mum is looking at me slyly and I wriggle myself out of James's embrace and roll my eyes. She knows perfectly well who this is.

"Mum," I say, slightly annoyed at her expression. "This is James Potter."

James puts on a winning smile and holds out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Blount. Thank you for letting Meredith meet us here today. I'm sorry it was such short notice."

"It's not a problem at all, James," Mum replies sweetly taking his hand in hers and shaking it firmly. "I'm just happy to hear that Meredith finally has some friends to meet."

"Mum…" I say under my breath.

James laughs and pulls his hand through his hair, mussing it even further. "I'm definitely happy that she considers me a friend." He smiles warmly at Mum and she returns it. I can tell she already likes him quite a bit.

Ugh. He is such a charmer.

Prat.

"Hey Rose," I greet in an attempt to stop any. She has been standing silently where she stopped before, but closes the gap between us when I acknowledge her.

"Meredith!" After giving me a quick hug, she pulls away and asks, "Has the rest of your holiday been going well?"

"Brilliant," I assure her. What I don't say, since Mum is standing a few feet away, is that these past few weeks have been much better than the first few.

I had spent the first portion of the summer traveling Britain with my parents. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I didn't get an owl from anyone from school and had started to think that maybe they didn't like me as much as I thought they did. Although I did enjoy being with my parents, I kept randomly remembering that I hadn't heard from my 'friends' since we'd left. This resulted in me being very emotionally unstable and my parents being at their wits' end with me by the time we returned home.

The owl that came after we returned was from James, inviting me to his birthday party on July 31. I was thrilled. My parents, much less so… at least, at first.

* * *

I scan the contents of the short letter from James excitedly.

_Meredith,_

_I hope your summer has been going well. Mine's been interesting. Mum went crazy after seeing my exam results and threatened to force me to quit the House Team if I didn't get my act together and pass my O.W.L.s. Can you believe that?_

I sniff a laugh. Honestly, I can. James barely revised for our exams this year claiming his 'intuition' would get him through.

I told him he was an idiot.

He ignored me and went off to snog Yvette.

I passed my exams with high grades.

He nearly failed.

Justice.

I continue reading:

_Believe it or not, I've spent this whole holiday studying so far, which is why I haven't been writing you._

If I had been drinking anything, it would have ended up all over my desk as I spit it out in surprise. Studying? James Potter studying?

I look up at the ceiling for a moment trying to picture James reading ahead in his text books alone. I can't do it. Literally nothing pops into my mind.

_I know you probably just did a spit-take, but I'm telling the truth. I don't think I could survive without Quidditch until I graduate. Dad and my Uncle Ron are very concerned for my sanity right now._

_I'm really sorry I didn't send anything. I knew you would be traveling with your parents, and I didn't want to feel like I was getting in the way. When I told Rose I hadn't written you all summer, she looked at me like I was an idiot and threw a potato at my head (she was helping Mum make dinner when her family visited us), which I feel was completely unjustified._

He would. He's an idiot.

However, even though he is an idiot, the weight in my stomach that had settled there since the start of my family's trip disappears. James may not have written, but he hadn't forgotten.

He's still an idiot.

_Anyway, to make it up to you, I am inviting you to my birthday party! Not that you wouldn't have been invited anyway, but I'm just trying to make you feel better._

I smile and shake my head.

_So whenever you get this, send me an owl back and let me know if you can come. It's going to be at my Grandpa Arthur's and Nana Molly's house on July 31 at 5pm. Since it's a National Holiday celebrating my existence, you definitely shouldn't miss it, yeah?_

_Don't worry about bringing a gift or anything. Having you there will be enough if you can make it. Mum and Dad are really looking forward to meeting you, too._

_Owl me back with an answer as soon as you can!_

_-James_

_P.S. Al, Lily, and Rose all tell me to say hey. They came to drag me away from my textbooks and force me to play Quidditch and saw me writing this letter and forced me to write this at the end._

A birthday party? Never mind James's birthday party, but Harry freaking Potter's birthday party? And he wants to meet me? And not just _the_ Harry Potter, but _the_ Ginny Potter of the Holyhead Harpies? She may have been a Chaser, but she has always been my idol.

My breathing becomes ragged and my heartrate quickens. What am I so nervous about? They're just normal people.

Normal people who saved the Wizarding World and played world-class Quidditch.

Yeah… totally normal.

I hear footsteps in the hall that stop in front my bedroom door followed by a knock and I hastily stuff James's letter back in the envelope it was sent in. "Come in!"

The door opens with a slight creak and Dad sticks his head into my room. "Hey, Sweetheart. Dinner is ready."

"Thanks Dad," I reply opening the drawer to my desk and placing the letter inside.

"Who was the letter from?" he inquires.

"A friend from school."

"A friend?" Dad steps fully into my room, now. "I don't think you've gotten a letter from a friend since first year."

It's true. I rarely receive letters over the summer… unless they're from Hogwarts.

"A new friend," I explain, turning in my seat to face him. "I got to know him last year."

"Him?" Dad's eyebrows shoot up and a slight frown forms on his face.

Before I can reply, Mum calls across our flat, "David! I thought you were letting Meredith know that dinner is ready!"

I roll my eyes slightly which results in a warning look from my father. If she was just going to yell, why didn't she do that instead of sending Dad all the way over here?

Dad and I both exit my room and walk to the kitchen where Mum had already placed the food on the table. The three of us take our seats and serve ourselves in silence and it's awkward.

Both Mum and Dad know that I received a letter. I know they assumed it was from Hogwarts, as was evidenced by Dad's surprise to hear it was from a friend. Both of them are watching me closely: Dad because he knows I've been corresponding with a male and Mum because I know she's hoping I've been made a Prefect this year.

I guess they're both hoping that I'll bring it up first.

Yeah… Not going to happen.

I silently eat my food and my parents continue to silently glance at me from their own plates. Finally, Mum can't stand it anymore and asks, "So who was the letter from, Meredith." Dad's fork freezes halfway to his mouth and the slice of roast beef he had speared slips off.

"A friend from school," I say again.

Mum tilts her head to the side slightly. "A friend? Who?"

"Someone I met in Defense last year."

"A boy," Dad puts his, a hint of a growl in his voice.

"You got a letter from a boy?" Mum asks excitedly. "A boyfriend maybe?"

Dad and I both choke on the food we have just put in our mouths and cough loudly. "No way!" I exclaim. "He is not my boyfriend. He's just a guy I get on with well." Dad eyes me suspiciously and Mum seems to deflate slightly. "He's invited me to his birthday party."

Dad sets his fork down and looks closely at me. "He's invited you to a co-ed birthday party."

I hadn't thought of that. It's supposed to be at his grandparent's house, so there will probably be both genders around, especially if his extended family shows up. "Well, I assume so seeing as-"

"You are not going."

"What?" I swing my head quickly to face him. "Why?"

"We don't know anything about him and I'm not about to let my daughter be alone with teenage boys I know nothing about."

"David…"

"No, Lisa. I don't think this is a good idea."

"But his whole family is going to be there!"

"How am I supposed to know for sure that's true?"

"You can trust me!"

"I trust you, Meredith, but I don't trust a teenaged boy I know nothing about."

I slam my fork on the table. "This is so unfair! Why don't you ask his parents? I'm sure you'll probably trust Harry and Ginny Potter." Mum and Dad stare at me for a second and I continue. "James Potter sent me the letter and invited me to come to his and his dad's birthday party on July 31. If you had let me talk, I would have explained this sooner!"

I push my chair back and leave the table in a huff, retreating to my room. I throw myself onto my bed and sob into my pillow. Dad is always like this. He never lets me do anything on my own. Doesn't he understand that I'm fifteen? I am top of my class in Defense. I can take care of myself.

Twenty minutes later, Mum knock on my door and immediately lets herself in. "Meredith, Dear, I'm sorry." I don't respond. "I spoke with your father and we agreed that it will be fine for you to go as long as Mr. or Mrs. Potter sends us some sort of confirmation about the event.

I turn my head to face her. "Thanks, Mum." I sit up fully and rub my face with my hands to clear off the dried tears. "Why is Dad so unreasonable?"

Mum sits down next to me on my bed and places a comforting arm around my shoulders. "Your father is just having a hard time realizing his little girl isn't so little anymore."

I lean my head on Mum's shoulder and she rubs my arm. "What's it going to take for him to realize?"

"I think he's taken a big step tonight already. The idea of you being with a boy is probably going to be the hardest thing for him to overcome."

"But James is not my boyfriend!" I say forcefully.

"I know that… and so does he. But even so, he was presented with the idea that he may not be the only man in your life for much longer and it's a bit of a nasty shock for him." She sighs and squeezes my shoulders in hug. "He's just trying to protect you."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know, Sweetheart," she says soothingly. "Just give him time. He'll come around."

* * *

I shake my head slightly to clear the memories. "Has your group done much shopping, yet? I know we're a little late."

James shakes his head. "Nah, we just got here, too. Plus we would've waited for you, anyway."

"James," Rose says with slight annoyance. "I think you mean _you_ would have waited. Mum is already getting antsy just standing around. You know how she can be when we do school shopping."

"Where are your parents, James," Mum asks, a hint of excitement in her voice. I raise an eyebrow at her and she smiles at me nervously. I give her a sympathetic smile back. She's nervous about meeting the Potters and the Weasleys and I only just overcame that hurdle three weeks ago at James's party.

"They're waiting at Wheezes," James responds, pointing arbitrarily behind him. "I'll introduce you!"

He motions for us to follow him up the alley towards the orange eye-sore that is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. I've never actually been inside. Joke shops are not something that I necessarily find enthralling on my own, but I'm really looking forward to taking a look this year. James talked it up all last year and now I want to see for myself if it really lives up to the hype.

Mum, James, and Rose walk slightly ahead of me and my thoughts wander back to the party and my own first meeting with Harry and Ginny Potter.

* * *

"Do your best to be home before eleven," Mum says, holding the pot of Floo powder out to me. "I don't think your father would be too happy if you stayed out later than that."

"Yes, Mum." I reach out and take a generous pinch of the green powder, throw it into the flames, and yell, "The Burrow!"

Grates fly past me and before too long, I find myself stumbling clumsily onto the stone floor of a warm-looking kitchen and being surrounded by wonderful smells.

I look around, trying to get my bearings, but I'm suddenly wrapped in an unexpected bear hug by none other than James.

"Mer!" He yells, as he squeezes me causing the soot on my clothes to fall on the kitchen floor and to stick to his bare chest. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

I am not used to hugs. I've never been a touchy-feely kind of person and physical contact with the opposite sex has been pretty much non-existent in my life. This thought brings to mind the row with Dad and I frown slightly.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my thoughts back to the present and pat the exposed skin on his back awkwardly. "Thank you for the invitation," I manage to respond. Yes, the hug is making it hard to breathe, but I'm mostly flustered by the fact that James Potter is hugging me… _shirtless._ If the girls at school hear about this, my life will certainly be in jeopardy.

"James." An aged witch with gray hair flecked with the faintest hint of red remaining walks into the kitchen and smiles warmly as she sees the two of us. "Ah," she says gently. "This must be Meredith." I feel the blush spread over my face. I bet she thinks I'm some kind of slag to arrive at a place I've never been and immediately hug an attractive shirtless guy.

James releases me and smiles at the witch. "Yeah! Nana, this is Meredith Blount. Mer, this is my Nana Molly."

I smile, nervously, my flushed face likely turning a deeper shade of red. His grandmother? This is her house. This is her kitchen. She has to think I'm a terrible person.

"Meredith," his grandmother says, moving towards us. "It is so good to finally meet you. James has told me so much about you." She holds out her hand and I feebly take it. She clasps it in both of her own and smiles warmly at me.

His grandmother's smile and demeanor ease my nerves. Her presence is soothing. I understand, now, why The Burrow is one of James's favorite places in the world. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I've heard a lot about you as well."

"Dear, call me Nana Molly. Merlin knows that I'm so used to it I won't know to respond to anything else." Nana Molly walks towards the stove and lifts the lid on one of several pots and stirs the contents. "Please clean up the ash on the floor, James. You know better than to hug someone right after they Floo."

James rolls his eyes and complains, "But you can just clean it with magic. Why do I have to do it?"

Nana Molly sends him a dangerous look over her shoulder and he clamps his mouth shut, walks to a closet, and pulls out a broom and dust pan. I stand awkwardly and watch as he sweeps the ashes that fell from my clothes into the pan. He walks towards a door at the back of the kitchen and, not knowing what to do with myself, I follow him.

He opens the door revealing a large yard with chickens walking freely, a lush garden, rolling hills on one side with a small village just visible on the horizon, and trees and a lake taking up the other side. I can make out makeshift Quidditch hoops through a small gap in the trees and there are several teenaged-looking people playing in the lake. That would explain why James is only wearing a pair of swim trunks. The sounds of their laughter reach my ears and I smile recognizing the unmistakable howl of Fred's laugh.

I take all of this in while James is dumping the ash behind an overgrown Flutterby Bush. "Please don't tell Nana that I dumped the ashes here. I'm supposed to take them over to the fence behind the chicken coop."

"This place is amazing, James." I am smiling like an idiot. I've lived in the city all my life and the sights and smells of the country are thrilling.

James looks up at me and smiles himself. "I know. I love it here." He stands up and I notice that he seems to have doubled the difference in our height since I last saw him, forcing me to actually tilt my head up to look him in the eyes.

"Why'd you have to grow?" I whine, sticking my lower lip out slightly. "I'm older. I should be taller."

James looks at me and cocks an eyebrow. "Well, what do you know?" He places his left hand on top of my head. "You went and got all short."

"Watch it, Potter," I say as threatening as I can. "Just because you're taller, now, doesn't mean I can still kick your arse."

James laughs loudly and picks up the broom and dust pan. "I'm going to put these away then we can go say hey to everyone. He reenters the house and I stand alone, giving me another opportunity to appreciate the scene. I could get used to seeing this.

A moment later, James sticks his head out the door. "I lied. Sorry," he says with slight smirk. "Before we go see everyone else, my parents want to meet you."

My heart skips a beat and I have to force myself to breathe as the realization of where I am and who is here hits me all over again. This is it. I'm going to meet THE Harry and Ginny Potter. And, probably, THE Ron and Hermione Weasley at some point.

I quickly brush the remaining ash from my clothes, trying to breathe deeply and only succeeding in inhaling the airborne ash. I start coughing roughly and James opens the door completely and rushes to my side. "Mer! Are you okay?"

His voice relays his concern and while I'm somewhat touched… _I'm still bloody about to meet the most famous person in all of Wizarding Britain!_

I raise a quivering hand in an attempt to stop him from worrying as I finally catch my breath. Upon seeing my shaking appendage, he smirks once more. "Don't tell me you're nervous."

I shoot him a glare, stand up straight and brush off my clothes again. "No! Why would I be nervous? I'm only meeting two of the most famous wizards in the country."

"I detect sarcasm," he replies, walking back to the door and leaning on the frame. I continue to glare at him. "What?" he asks in response. "They are only my parents."

"You are such a prat!" I yell and James looks nervously over his shoulder through the open door. "I get that you've lived with the fame your whole life, but this is different for me!" I take a breath and turn my back to him. "I mean… what if they don't like me? Everyone would know that the great Harry Potter doesn't like me and think-"

"Did you know that my mum's full name is Ginevra?" James asks, cutting me off.

I whip around and look at him. That was random. "What?"

"Mum's full name is Ginevra Molly," he says crossing his arms over his chest. "I always figured that 'Ginny' was short for something, but Mum did a hell of a job hiding that."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask, slightly perturbed by his change in subject.

"I don't really like today," James admits. I watch as he looks over to the lake where our mates are still swimming. "July 31… I mean, sure, it's my birthday, but it's also Dad's birthday, not to mention a National Holiday. Every year, since I can remember, it's been a circus at our house. Reporters have been hounding my parents since even before they left school and they always attempt to get an interview in today no matter how many times my dad refuses."

Another random statement? What is he on about?

"Since it gets so crazy at our house, I've taken to sneaking away into the attic."

"The attic? That's a bit of an odd place to hide."

"Maybe," he replies. "But it's worked. I started going up there…" James cocks his head and scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Probably when I was eight. I was trying to get away from Mum and Lily was throwing a fit. I hid in the attic, but I got bored after a while and starting going through some boxes that my parents stored there. That first year I found a box with a lot of my old baby toys in it.

"I've found a couple of really boring boxes of random files and old clothes and such, but this year I found a box of items relating to my parent's wedding and found a copy of the marriage license. There was Mum's name in plain view. I'm surprised no one came to see if we now had a ghoul in our attic since I was laughing so hard and probably making a hell of a racket."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Meredith, my parents, and the rest of my family for that matter, are just normal people. They keep loads of rubbish in their attic, collect keepsakes from their children, and got married like other normal people would do."

I think about his words. I guess it makes sense. "But what if they don't like me?"

"I doubt very seriously that they won't, Mer." James stands back up straight and walks to my side again. "And if they don't like you, which, again, I seriously doubt will happen, it's not going to change what I think about you. You're my friend and nothing anybody could say would change that."

I give him a genuine smile and he returns it, pulling me into a gentle hug. This one is considerably less awkward than the first, though I'm still a little flustered with the fact that he's not wearing a shirt. After he releases me, I ask, "Your mum's name is Ginevra and she still called your brother Albus?"

James laughs loudly saying, "I know! I thought the exact same thing!"

"I guess I'm ready," I tell him after a pause.

"Brilliant. I bet they're wondering why we're taking so long as it is." James turns his back to me and makes to walk back through the door into Nana Molly's kitchen.

"Hey, James…" James stops and turns to look at me, still smiling. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he answers and he heads through the door.

I take a deep breath and exhale, repeating, "They're just normal people. They're just normal people." under my breath as I follow him through the entrance and into the sitting room.

As I enter, I see Harry and Ginny Potter looking at me, and my heart leaps to my throat as the nerves return full-force. James is facing his parents and gestures to me as he says, "Mum, Dad: this is Meredith."

Mr. Potter's face lights up and he vacates the couch and walks towards me and James. He holds out his hand and says, "Meredith. It's a pleasure to meet you. James has told us quite a bit about you." I take his hand and shake it firmly.

Mr. Potter is standing next to James and I mentally compare them. They have the same messy black hair, but James has brown eyes. Mr. Potter is only a few inches taller than his son suggesting his eldest will surpass him at some point.

Huh. I expected the savior of the wizarding world to be taller.

Mrs. Potter joins the three of us and offers me her hand as well. As I shake it she says, "So you're the reason James was able to fit his head through the door after coming home from school this year?"

I blush slightly at her words. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Potter." I look into Mrs. Potter's face and notice her eyes are the exact same shade of brown as James's.

"The pleasure is ours," Mr. Potter replies, smiling warmly. "I'm always happy to meet a friend of James." He wraps his arm around his wife's waist and I feel my racing heart start to slow as it hits me.

They're just normal people.

* * *

James, Phillip, Roger, Fred, and I exit Wheezes, the boys all carrying large bags of merchandise and myself carrying a small bag containing a new product Angelina Weasley talked me into buying. I look down at the paper bag in my hands skeptically. It contains instructions for charming a quill of your choice to become self-inking.

"_It provides you the freedom to choose a better quality quill compared to the low-tier quills generally provided with the self-inking charm," _she had said.

"Meredith," Phillip asks with a grimace. "How could you walk into a store like that and walk out with one of the most boring pieces of merchandise they carry?"

"Shove off, Finnigan," I say without looking at him. "You're just upset that I have no intention of sitting in detention with you tossers this year."

"Where are we off to, now?" Roger asks, checking his watch. "We need to meet our parents back here in a couple of hours, so we should get started with the rest of our shopping."

"We should probably get our textbooks last so we don't have to carry them around for the rest of the time," I say looking down the busy street.

"Let's go over to Scribbulus," James offers, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "Mer is probably really anxious to find a new quill." I roll my eyes. I really don't want to think about quills.

"If we must," Roger says with a huff. "That place always makes me feel like I have to sneeze, though."

The five of us make our way down Diagon Alley and into the musty supply shop. We split up and do our individual shopping. At least, that's what I would have done if James hadn't decided to tag along behind me annoyingly. "What quill are you going to pick, Mer?" he asks with a smirk. "We both know how much you love using them."

"Shut it, Potter," I hiss sharply. We make our way to the quill display and I make a face as I take in the dozens of options laid out before me. I pick up a few, placing them back in the appropriate box almost immediately. "Should I pick the one that will dull, or the one that will dull?" I ask myself sarcastically, walking around the table.

"I think maybe you should pick the one that will dull," James says cheekily.

I shoot him an annoyed look and pick up yet another apparently high-quality quill, holding it up in front of my face. "Merlin, I hate quills."

"Then pick the one that's not a quill," James says, inspecting a quill himself.

I freeze in the middle of returning the item I was inspecting. Not a quill. "James," I say slowly, excitement building inside of me. "You just gave me a brilliant idea."

James eyes me warily. "If it's got anything to do with torching this batch of expensive quills, I can't say that I approve of the plan, no matter how much fun that would be."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why is that the first thing you thought of?"

James shrugs. Idiot.

"Come on, Potter," I say, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the shop.

"What? What are you doing? Where are we going?" he shouts as I pull him towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"We're going to Muggle London," I answer.


	4. Chapter 4

I release James's arm after we make it a short way down the street. He's been stumbling as I have dragged him, forcing me to hold him up as we walk. James stands up, giving me a quizzical look. "Muggle London? Why?"

"I'm going to buy the last writing instrument I will need for the rest of my time at Hogwarts," I explain simply, continuing my trek towards the Leaky Cauldron. "And you're going to be my escort."

James jogs to catch up with me and falls into step beside me. "Why do you need an escort?" he asks honestly. "I'm fairly certain you could take on anyone who may try to do anything."

I glance sideways at him and smile to myself, flattered by his assurance in my ability to take care of myself.

Dad's face flickers through my mind and I frown slightly. At least someone thinks I can.

"Thanks, James," I say as we reach the door to the pub. "But considering I'm still underage and we're going to be surrounded by Muggles, I don't think it would be a good plan to count on my ability to duel to get me out of a sticky situation."

"Good point," James concedes as I open the door and both of us enter. "I guess I will have to ward off any creeps with my natural intimidating aura and superior height."

I smack James on the back of the head and he pouts. "Get over yourself, Potter. I'm bringing you along so I don't have to worry about people talking to me."

"Why would you worry about that?" James inquires opening the door on the other side of the pub and letting us both through onto the sidewalk of Charing Cross Road. "Aren't they just being friendly?"

I think about my recent experience with cat-callers while walking down the street where my parent's flat is located and roll my eyes. "Yeah," I say sarcastically. "Just being friendly. Tell me that when you're being cat-called by drunk men on the street."

James doesn't say anything, but frowns.

I start walking down the sidewalk and James follows. I'm familiar with this area of London and I know exactly where I'm going. James walks beside me quietly, staring at the cement in front of him. I send him another sideways glance. "Everything okay, James?"

James looks up and scrunches his mouth to one side. "Sorry," he says as he scratches his cheek. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was just slightly thrown off by the fact that you're a girl."

I roll my eyes. I know he doesn't mean it as an insult. He just likes to talk before he thinks. "You knew that before we were friends."

"Yeah," he admits. "But I never thought… I dunno. I just don't like the thought of guys acting like that towards you."

I shake my head and smile. "I appreciate the concern, James, but I handle it just fine. Plus, it doesn't happen that often." We walk in silence a little longer until I spot the shop I've been heading to. "This is it!" I yell and walk faster down the sidewalk, carefully avoiding the people around me.

James hurries after me and I stop in front of a slightly run-down antique mart. James raises an eyebrow at me in question and I smile and enter the shop. A bell above the door chimes as we enter and an elderly lady appears behind the counter. "Good afternoon," she says with a gentle smile. "Is there something I can help you two with?"

I walk up to the counter and return her smile. "Yes," I reply. "I'm interested in old-fashioned calligraphy and I was wondering if you had any antique writing utensils that I could take a look at."

"We have a few options on a table in the back corner. Would you like me to show you?"

"Please."

The old woman walks around the counter and beckons us to follow her to the back of the shop where there are a variety of tarnished candle holders and silverware along with a couple of old dining chairs with outdated upholstery. She motions to a small table pushed against the back wall with several ancient quills and some old-fashioned ink pens. The display is a little messy, with many scrap pieces of paper with writing on them, I assume from customers testing various writing instruments, littering the table. "This is what we have," she explains. "If you need any assistance, please ring the bell next to the register."

She walks away and James and I approach the table. "Why couldn't you just buy a quill from Scribbulus?" he asks poking around the pile of quills. "I seriously doubt that you will find a quill here that is going to be any better than what you will find there."

"I'm not looking for a quill," I say, moving a piece of paper covering a few of the ink pens. James leans against the wall next to the display and crumples the paper bag from Wheezes he's still holding. I search the table, hopeful to find the kind of instrument I'm looking for. I don't know of anyone who has tried what I'm hoping to accomplish, but it would be amazing if it worked out and would mean I would never have to sharpen another quill again.

Nothing.

My heart sinks as I realize that what I'm looking for is not here. "What's this?" James bends down and picks up something that fell off the table and rolled under it. As he stands holding the dropped item, my heart lifts again at the sight of the metal tip and old wooden handle of an antique dip pen.

"That's it!" I yell in excitement. I pull the pen out of James's grasp and turn back towards the table, reaching for a bottle of ink set on the table for people to use and one of the scrap pages, I write 'Meredith Elaine Blount can kick James Potter's arse.' The feeling of a metal tip on a sheet of Muggle paper is odd, but the result is the same. I blow gently on the page to dry the ink and hold it up for James to admire my handiwork.

"Meredith Elaine Blount," he starts reading out loud and then pauses. "You're middle name is Elaine?" I nod and his eyes return to the page to read the rest of the sentence.

He pouts.

What a baby.

"I'm getting it," I say, pocketing the page with my proclamation of superiority on it. I rush to the register and lightly ring the bell for the old woman.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks. I nod, smiling, and place the dip pen on the counter. She rings up my purchase and places it in a bag.

The bell rings behind us as we exit the little shop and James and I make our way back down Charing Cross Road towards the Leaky Cauldron. James looks at his watch. "Bloody hell," he says in a low voice. "We've been gone for nearly thirty minutes. We probably should have told the guys before we bolted."

"They'll get over it. I'm sure it's not the first time you disappeared with a girl," I jibe good-naturedly.

James makes a face. "Not sure if that's something to be proud of or not."

"It doesn't matter. Either way, it's not out of character for you."

"I don't often just disappear with one of them without telling the others, though."

"So what?"

"I don't just disappear with one of my mates randomly if we're all together and I don't want them talking about that stuff concerning you. You're not just any girl."

"And don't you forget it," I reply cheekily, poking him in the side.

"I'm serious, Mer," James says, the pitch of his voice rising a bit. "It's one thing for the guys to say stuff about me, but saying stuff about you is a different story. You're not like that."

"I doubt very seriously that the guys are going to bother about the two of us disappearing together. It's not like I'm your type or anything."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not a girly-girl and I actually have a brain." James shakes his head and smiles. "What would people think if you starting dating little ol' me when I don't even rank in the school's 'Prospective Girlfriends of James Potter' list."

"That's a real thing?" James asks, bemused. "And why wouldn't you be on that?"

"I hardly qualify as beautiful," I reply evenly. This is something I accepted a long time ago, so saying it doesn't hurt me.

James, on the other hand, looks very disturbed. "Who told you that?" I shrug and keep walking. "Whoever did should be hexed, because that's a load of bullocks."

I furrow my brow at his words. He thinks that's a load of bullocks? Does he find me attractive?

Oh no. That's not it at all. It's worse.

I bet he thinks I was fishing for a compliment. I hope he doesn't think I'm turning into the same kind of vain idiots who follow him around at school.

Does he think that maybe I fancy him?

Bugger.

"It's no big deal. It's not like I would want to be on that list."

James looks at me, cocking his head. "Why not?"

"It's not like you're my type," I lie. The truth is, I find James very attractive, but there's no way in the name of Merlin I would ever consider him as a prospective boyfriend with the way he acts.

Not to mention how awkward it would be.

"Really?" The corners of James's mouth turn down as he thinks about this. "Oh. Okay."

We enter Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron once more and find Philip, Roger, and Fred waiting outside Scribbulus, annoyance etched on their faces as they watch us approach.

"Where have you two been?" Roger asks accusingly looking between us.

"Releasing the dragon inside Gringotts," I say easily, stopping beside Fred.

"We'd better hurry up," Phillip says with a hint of anger, "or we're not going to have enough time to finish our shopping."

"It'll be fine, Phil," James says patting his mate on the back. "If we don't get everything, I'm sure your mum will be fine with you failing out of Hogwarts."

Phillip glares at James. "Let's get going."

The five of us continue our shopping, stopping at the apothecary to restock our potions kits and Madam Malkin's to pick up robes previously ordered for James and Fred. We finally make our way toward Flourish and Blotts to buy the few new textbooks required of us this year, but Quality Quidditch Supplies catches the boys' eyes and, of course, we have to stop and ogle at the latest model of Firebolt on display in the window.

I'm actually really interested in it, too. My Nimbus is okay, but it's definitely no Firebolt. Phillip, Roger, and Fred don't know that I'm a fair flier. It was a complete fluke that James found out. I thought that he would laugh in my face and say I was horrible and should never fly again, but he was surprisingly encouraging. I made him swear not to tell anyone, but after that, we would sometimes take an evening to fly around on the pitch for the hell of it.

James appears on my right, causing me to jump slightly as he asks, "Did you think any more about what I suggested?"

While at his birthday party, James had made the wild suggestion that I should try out for the House team this year for Seeker. I had convinced myself that he was joking, but the thought had stuck with me. Living in the city makes it hard for me to get any time to fly over the summer, but I had managed to get out a few times and I couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of actually playing Seeker: something that I had dreamed about since I could first understand Quidditch.

"Stop, James. I don't need your teasing."

"Teasing?" he asks, apparently affronted. "I would never tease anyone about Quidditch." He ruffles my hair playfully and I bat his hands away. "Mer, you're really good. Gryffindor hasn't had a Seeker as good as you since before we started at Hogwarts."

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "Right. Thanks for the ego boost, James, but it's really okay."

James frowns at me and crosses his arms over his chest. "Meredith, I'm serious. I don't want to lose the Quidditch Cup again this year and I know for a fact our best chance of winning is to put you on the team."

"Who is Captain this year, anyway?" I ask. The Captain from last year graduated, so someone new will be taking her place.

"I've heard a rumor that it's Fletcher."

I drop my jaw and stare at James, shocked. "Fletcher? You've got to be kidding me. He's a tosser!"

"It's not so bad!" James defends. I give him a skeptical look. I guess he would know better than I would, seeing as he's played on the House Team with him for several years, now. "He's a hell of a beater for sure. Plus, he's a Seventh Year, so he's got the respect that comes from experience."

"I guess," I say, unconvinced. "He seems a bit dense to me."

"You say that about me all the time."

"I know, which is why you should know by now that I'm an expert in spotting it." I stick my tongue out at him and look back to the window where Phillip, Roger, and Fred and speaking animatedly about the Firebolt.

"Phil and Roger are trying out this year."

"Do you think they'll make it?" I ask, offhand. James has been playing Quidditch with his three mates since they were kids and I seriously doubt that he would not think they were good enough to play on the team with him.

"They have a good shot, but I still think that you have a better shot than them on making the team." I whip my head to look at him. James is looking down at me seriously. "Will you please try out? We could seriously use your talent."

I take a breath and half-smile. "I'll think about it," I finally say and he smiles widely. "Just don't go telling everyone."

"If you insist." James directs his attention to Roger, Phillip, and Fred, still gawking at the window display. "Oi! We've only got twenty minutes until we need to get back to Wheezes. Let's get a move on!"

I fall back a few paces as we head towards Flourish and Blotts again, observing my four mates at they talk and tease each other along the way. The four boys have been close since their first year, though they did know each other before. I suddenly feel like an outsider as I watch them laugh and joke around.

Where do I fit into all of this? I'm just Meredith, the quiet girl who rarely talks to anyone, but just so happens to be an excellent duelist. If it weren't for that duel with James last year, I probably still wouldn't be on their radar. They already act like a team and I'm just a fifth wheel.

I glance at the bag from the Muggle antique shop and smile despite myself. James is a good friend, despite his many moments of idiocy. I should trust him.

"Meredith!" Fred yells back to me. I've fallen quite a bit behind the boys. "Are you coming?"

I walk quickly to meet them, carful to keep the bags and packages I'm carrying from falling. "You'd think a good group of blokes like you would have the decency to carry a girl's things."

"Who are you calling a good group of blokes?" Phillip asks, offended. "If anyone heard you say that or suspected it to be true, we'd be in trouble." I give him an unamused look and force my heaviest package containing a full ream of parchment into his empty hands. "Hey! What do I look like, a pack mule?"

"Yes," I deadpan. "As a matter of fact, I've always thought you looked like somewhat of an arse." Laughter from James, Fred, and Roger surrounds me and even Phillip joins in, even though the jab was at his expense.

"You walked right into that one, mate," Roger manages, clapping Phillip on the shoulder.

In the bookstore, we easily find the new Charms and Defense texts that we need. "Do you guys mind if we stay in here for a bit?" I ask quietly. I'm not sure what it is about bookstores, but even when they're busy, I still feel the need to be quiet. "I just want to look around."

"Sure, Mer," James responds with a smile before anyone else can chime in. I can tell by the look on Phillip's and Roger's faces that they really have no interest in staying here.

"You can go on ahead if you don't want to stay here," I offer, diverting my eyes away from them slightly in embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Meredith," Fred says, flicking Phillip in the ear as James elbows Roger in the side. "Just let us know when you're ready to leave."

"Bloody-" Phillip starts, but Fred claps his hand over his mouth, shushing him.

"Thank you," I say sincerely and I walk to a nearby bookshelf to peruse the titles. I love browsing bookstores, though I don't get many chances to do it. For some reason, browsing the Hogwarts Library just isn't the same.

I wander through the aisles of bookshelves, scanning the bindings and occasionally pulling out a book that catches my eye. As I reach the end of the current bookshelf, a whispered conversation stops me.

"… so bloody boring. Why couldn't we just head back to Wheezes?"

"Because Meredith wanted to look around here."

From the whispers, I can tell the conversation is between Phillip and James.

"Why does that matter? She's a big girl. She can walk down the street by herself."

"She's your mate," James replies evenly. "You'd stick around if I asked you to, right?"

"Like the way you stuck around earlier?"

There is a pause before James responds, "That was different."

"You still ditched us." The tone of Phillip's voice suggests he's smirking. "You and Meredith… all alone… for half an hour…" I blush as I realize the intent of his words.

"Drop it," James hisses.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?"

"Phillip…" James warns.

"There's no need to be."

"Stop."

"Was she any good?" There was a loud scuffle and a *thump* that makes the bookshelf in front of me shake. "What the hell, James?" Phillips voice now sounds as if it's just on the other side of the bookshelf shielding me from the scene.

"Don't say things like that." James's voice is close and menacing. "Don't even think anything like that about Mer."

"It was a joke-"

"At her expense," James cuts in. "You can say what you want about me. I probably deserve it, but don't bring Meredith into it." I hear James take a few steps backward. "Phillip, she's your friend, too. You know she wouldn't do anything like that."

The bookshelf shudders again as Phillip stands himself up. "I'm sorry, James," he says, a hint of disdain present in his voice. "I wasn't thinking about it like that. Did you really have to pin me, though?"

I walk away quickly before I can hear any more, still blushing profusely. I hadn't really thought that James was serious about what he said earlier, but from what I heard just now, he was. He really doesn't want anyone saying those kinds of things.

I'm not really surprised about that, when I think about that. After getting to know him last year, he usually means what he says. His biggest problem is that he says what he means without thinking about what he's saying…

That seems really convoluted, but what I mean to say is that he shoots his mouth off, but what comes out is normally genuine.

As I reach another bookshelf on the opposite side of the shop, I stare at the rows of volumes blankly. Phillip hadn't even thought about the implications of his statement to more than just James. It hadn't even registered with him.

I had gotten to know the three other guys from hanging out with James, but I am not nearly as close with them as I am with James. I'm just an outsider when they're all together, awkwardly trying to fit into a group that I have nothing in common with.

But I want to fit in with them. Last year was the first time I really actually experienced real friendship and I don't want to lose that; I want to make it better.

"Mer?" James appears behind me, causing me to jump slightly. He smirks at my reaction and says, "We need to go now. Were you going to buy anything else?"

I shake my head. "I'm ready." James motions exuberantly for me to go ahead and I walk past him with a small laugh.

We meet Fred, Roger, and Phillip in the street. Phillip's looking sheepishly at me and I do my best to push the conversation I overheard out of my mind. I know he honestly didn't mean anything by it, but it's still embarrassing.

"Thanks for waiting."

"No problem, Meredith," Roger says with a grin.

"We better book it over to Wheezes," James says, looking at his watch.

"I don't think our parents are going to have kittens if we're a few minutes late," Phillip puts in, adjusting the bags and packages he's holding.

"Please," James answers, exasperated, "You know my Mum, right?"

The five of us start back towards the brightest building on the street and James falls into step next to me as the three other walk ahead. "Thanks for coming with me today, James," I tell him as we walk. "I'm sorry if me dragging you away causes you any problems."

"Don't worry about it," he says genuinely. "I'm actually really happy we had that adventure."

"It would be best if my mum doesn't hear about it, though. She'll probably tell my dad and he'll go mad if he knew I was all alone with a male for half an hour."

"I don't plan on saying anything at all, especially to my mum. I don't think I've ever been in Muggle London alone and I'm sure she'd have a fit if she knew."

We walk in silence a moment watching the three ahead of us try to knock each other over. I divert my gaze to the Firebolt display at Quality Quidditch Supplies and then back to Phillip, Roger, and Fred and the answer to my question of how to really mesh with the group dawns on me suddenly. I turn to James and say, "I'll do it."

He gives me a confused look. "What?"

"I'm going to try out for the Quidditch Team."

James's face lights up immediately. "Really? Wow! That's great! You won't regret it."

I look back to the boys in front of us, smiling. "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

**September 2020 – Fifth Year**

My grip on my broom tightens as I stand next to James on the Quidditch pitch. "How did I let you talk me into this?"

"Need I remind you, Meredith, that you came to the decision yourself?" I shoot James a glare and he smiles back cheekily. "Besides, the only way you would ever do something I told you to do would be if I was Quidditch Captain and you were on my team."

I bounce nervously on the balls of my feet, watching the other Quidditch hopefuls make their way onto the pitch. Quidditch Captain Davin Fletcher is standing center-pitch looking a little overwhelmed. "I still can't believe Fletcher is Captain."

"Who else was it going to be?" he scoffs, ruffling his messy hair and gazing out over the crowd of students.

"You," I say, without hesitation.

James drops his broom and quickly bends over to pick it up before turning back to me. "What?"

"Please, James," I say in disbelief, not looking at him. "You're loads more qualified than Fletcher to be Captain."

James is silent and I turn my head towards him to look at him properly. He's staring at me, slack-jawed, with the hint of a grin on his face. "You really think that?"

I nod seriously and add, "Plus, then you could have just put me straight on the team so I could keep your over-inflated noggin at a manageable size."

"It's not that big of a problem," he replies, defensively. "If it was, I wouldn't be able to properly ride a broom." I glance over to him again and as soon as we make eye contact, we both start laughing.

"Meredith?" Fred pops up behind James. "Are you trying out for the team?"

Nerves grip me once again, sobering me, and I nod. "I thought it might be interesting to give it a go."

"What position?"

"Seeker," James answers for me.

Fred stares at him a moment. "You knew about this?"

"Of course. I know everything that has to do with Quidditch."

"Meredith? What are you doing here?" Phillip and Roger join me, James, Fred, broomsticks in hand.

"She's going out for Seeker," Fred answers.

"Brilliant," Roger says, looking to me. "I didn't know you played, Meredith."

"She's phenomenal," James tells them. "She's a stellar flier and has the sharpest eyes of any prospective Seeker in the school." I blush as they stare at me, but I can't help but feel proud that James thinks so highly of my abilities.

Fred looks past me and an odd look crosses over his features. It reminds me of a mix of confusion and exasperation. He leans over to James and whispers something in his ear and pointing across the pitch. James's gaze follows his gesture and his expression suddenly mirrors Fred's.

"Bloody hell," James says to no one in particular. "What in Merlin's name is _she_ doing here?"

Fred rolls his eyes, still pointing in the same direction. "I thought you said you knew everything that has to do with Quidditch."

Roger, Phillip, and I simultaneously turn to look in the direction Fred had indicated. Walking down the pitch, bringing a sort of golden aura around her, is Victoire Weasley. Phillip and Roger both gape unattractively and Fred smacks them both on the back of the head.

"Oi! What was that for?" Phillip shouts, rubbing his head and scowling. Roger is doing the same.

"I would thank you not to ogle our cousin like imbeciles," Fred answers crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sorry mate," Roger says shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I don't know how she manages to do that to me every time."

James is still watching Victoire's progress across the field, a slight frown forming on his face. "Seriously, though. What is she doing here?"

Victoire has attracted attention from what feels like every male within the stadium… including Davin Fletcher. "Bloody hell," Fred says this time. "This may be a problem."

"Why?" Phillips asks, pointedly looking in the opposite direction of Victoire.

"Do you know what position she's interested in?" I ask Fred and James.

"I don't know," James answers, obviously distracted. His brow is furrowed in concentration and he glances at his watch and shakes his head. "He had better get a move on, or we're going to run out of time," he says to himself. "I'm going to go talk to Fletcher," he says, now addressing the group, and he takes off at a jog towards Fletcher without another word.

"Do you know, Fred?" I ask, watching James close the distance between him and the Quidditch Captain.

"I have a suspicion," he answers, vaguely, also watching James as he approaches Fletcher. Together, we see James walks up to the Captain, briefly speak to him, and then shake him roughly by the arm.

It doesn't work.

Especially not when Victoire arrives next to James and the tell-tale stupid grin is plastered onto Fletcher's face.

She's sucked him in.

There's no way trials are going to be fair. Everyone who's competing for the position she's going out for had better watch out.

Fred and I continue to watch as James attempts to get Fletcher's attention, failing miserably. Having Victoire in such close proximity has made the guy completely oblivious to James's presence. Victoire is speaking animatedly to Fletcher and Fletcher is nodding and grinning like an idiot. Victoire smiles brilliantly, flips her bright, blonde hair, mounts her broom, and flies to the far end of the pitch into a group of students who appear to be separated by which position they are trying out for.

Phillip and Roger are both standing with their backs to Victoire in an effort to keep their minds clear, but turn around quickly as Fred, in response to her landing and joining one of the groups, inhales sharply and says, "Yep. She's going out for Seeker."

My stomach drops.

She's going out for Seeker?

I have to compete against _her_?

I clutch my broom tightly once more, feeling dizzy.

I look back to James just in time to watch him shove a still-dazed Fletcher to the ground. His face is bearing a rather frightening scowl and he says something to Fletcher whose mind seems to have cleared momentarily. Fletcher pushes himself back into a standing position and shrugs his shoulders. He does not look happy with James as he brushes grass off of his kit.

James's face reddens and he pulls his free hand through his hair before telling Fletcher one more thing and storming away from him.

Looks like I'm not the only one who isn't happy with how today is going.

James approaches us and kicks the turf of the pitch hard. "He. Is. Such. A. Tosser."

_Told you so,_ I tell him in my head. I would have said it out loud, if I didn't think I would vomit if I opened my mouth. I just nod emphatically, instead.

"What's the deal with your cousin?" Roger asks, eyes once again glued to Victoire, though his expression is clear.

"She was over there buttering him up like she does with everyone," James explains with a deeper scowl. "And Fletcher was just going along with it! He doesn't even have any plans for how these trials are going to go. He's just winging it, today."

The three other boys groan loudly. James pulls both of his hands roughly through his hair in frustration and begins to pace in front of the four of us.

"You know she's going out for Seeker, right?" Fred asks him cautiously.

A new wave of nausea comes over me.

"Of course I know Mer's going out for Seeker!" James shouts, still pacing. "I told you lot that."

"I'm not talking about Meredith, you dolt," Fred says rubbing him forehead with his hand. "I'm talking about Victoire."

James stops abruptly and spins around to look at Fred, wide-eyed. "No she isn't." It's more a statement of disbelief than of contradiction.

Fred just nods seriously and juts his thumb in the direction of the groups of students present for the trials.

"That b…" James takes a breath, shaking his head. "I can't believe this. She doesn't even hardly play."

A whistle sounds and Fletcher gestures for the five of us to join the other students. As we make our way over to them James pulls my arm lightly to get me to walk with him a little behind the others.

"What's up?" I ask, confused.

"I know you can do this, Mer," he says sincerely. I watch him closely as he keeps his attention forward. "Fletcher might make this hard, but I know that you deserve to be on the team."

I catch movement in the corner of my eye and notice Fletcher examining us as we make our way across the pitch. The look on his face as he follows us is making me uncomfortable. "You probably shouldn't have shoved him," I tell James as Fletcher frowns and brushes more grass from his clothes.

"He deserved it."

"Won't that hurt your chances of getting on the team?" That's not really my question, but I'm too scared to ask what I'm really worried about.

"What?" James looks at me. "No way! I'm way too much of an asset for him to cut just because I pushed him a bit," he says confidently.

"Don't you think that was a bit reckless?"

"Does that matter? I'm pretty much a shoo-in. Besides, I do stuff like that all the time."

"I'm well aware," I reply, annoyance seeping into my voice. Its times like this I just want to push him off his broom for being so self-centered. "Did you stop to think that maybe you shouldn't piss off the Captain of the team three of your mates are trying out for the first time? He knows that we're your friends. He might not be able to pass up a talent like yours, but we don't have the luxury of having experience to pad our résumés with, so starting us off on the wrong foot with him was not the best idea."

James walks in stunned silence beside me. "Meredith…" he starts as we reach our destination.

"I'll talk to you later, James," I say, cutting him off. I make to walk towards the small group of Seekers, but James grabs my arm again and I face him.

"You're going to do great, Mer," he says with an apologetic smile. "Fletcher's not going to be able to consider anyone else because your performance will be so obviously superior."

His words are encouraging, but only for a moment before I remember the sappy look on Fletcher's face as Victoire spoke with him. I sigh and say, "Thanks," before continuing towards the Seeker group.

* * *

One thing I have to say about today: trials could definitely have gone better.

I sit on the pitch with the five other bored Seeker hopefuls watching Fletcher's sad excuse for an organized event. It had started out standard enough with each group flying a lap or two around the pitch. Beyond that, I don't think Fletcher knew what the hell he was doing.

I glance at James as I have been doing quite often since trials started. Currently, he's standing on the grass in the center of the pitch knocking his head against the handle of his broom as a group of Chasers haphazardly fly around in the air above him. I can tell he wishes he was in charge right now.

Not to mention Fletcher keeps flying over to him to ask him for advice. If James wasn't around, I'm fairly certain that Fletcher would not have made it this far into the trials.

"Do you know when the Seekers are going to be doing anything else?" Victoire asks cheerfully from my right.

I tilt my head in her direction and shake it. "It can't be much longer," I tell her. "This should be the last batch of Chasers."

I've been sitting in silence for most of the time, watching each person trying out as they did their best to understand the instructions Fletcher shouted at them. Phillip and Roger, from what I could tell, didn't even bother trying to understand what he was saying and just did what Chasers do.

If they end up on the making the team, this is probably pretty indicative of how the year will go.

Beater and Keeper trials were a joke. Everyone knew those positions were pretty much locked in with Fred, Fletcher, and the girl Beater from the previous year (whose name escapes me at the moment) still at Hogwarts.

"Why couldn't we have gone first?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't I wish I knew."

Victoire and I have said very little to each other since we've been sitting here. I met her at James's birthday party and I liked her alright then. James thinks she's annoying, but he doesn't really understand girls who act really girly.

Maybe that's why he and I get on so well. I've never really thought about it.

Finally, Fletcher blows his whistle and gestures for the Seekers to prepare for our trials. We all get to our feet, mount our brooms, and fly to meet him in the air.

James is standing on the grass below us and we make eye contact briefly. He gives me an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up and my nerves once again ease slightly at his confidence.

I would say that I wish I was as confident as he is, but that would probably make me intolerable, so I'll say I wish I was half as confident as he is.

The five other Seeker candidates and I hover around Fletcher as he attempts to explain what we're going to be doing. He appears to be avoiding eye contact with Victoire.

That's a good sign. Maybe he's not as dense as I'd thought.

"I'm going to release two Snitches," he starts.

Okay, easy enough.

"I want you to catch them."

No kidding? I thought they were just for show.

"You can try to do some stuff."

What? Never mind about not being dense.

"Or you can try to fly around and such."

Oh Davin Fletcher, how in Merlin's name are you Captain?

"Once I say 'go', just do whatever."

A quick glance at the other's faces shows me that they really didn't understand anything he said either. Well, except for Victoire. I'm not sure she was even listening, but she's now throwing a winning smile at Fletcher, who, with a single glance, becomes the dopey-looking idiot from before.

I roll my eyes and fly to hover over the top of the pitch, hoping that Fletcher will snap out of it sooner rather than later.

I snort unattractively as I watch a dazed Fletcher almost slip off his broom. He manages to catch himself and the close call seems to have jerked him out of his stupor.

Good.

Fletcher lands quickly and walks over to a chest containing the Quidditch equipment. He carefully releases two Snitches and they flit quickly away from him.

My heart starts beating faster in anticipation as I wait for Fletcher's signal. The sharp trill of his whistle sounds and I zoom down the pitch in the direction I saw one of the released snitches disappear.

The rest of the pitch melts away. All that matters is me, my broom, and the two Snitches I'm searching for. I am focused.

I fly to the end of the pitch, eyes peeled for any hint of gold in in the stadium. A glint below me catches my attention and I immediately turn into a dive to chase the Snitch. I gather speed as my broom angles towards the ground and I easily pull up to the same height as the elusive golden ball. Keeping my momentum, I race forward, right arm outstretched and clasp my fingers around the cool metal.

That's one.

I smile to myself and lift my arm over my head as the Snitch struggles against my grip. I scan the pitch for Fletcher and find him easily standing center-pitch.

He's not looking at me.

He's watching Victoire on the opposite side of the pitch as she flies lazily back and forth. How she expects to find the Snitch that way is beyond me.

But Fletcher isn't watching me. He didn't see my catch.

My attention is brought to James who is standing a few feet away from Fletcher pumping his fist in the air and grinning at me. He taps Fletcher on the arm and points to me, telling the Captain something.

Fletcher waves him off and continues staring at Victoire.

I watch as James's face reddens again and he looks back to me. I shake my head at him hoping it will remind him not to do anything stupid in the middle of my trials and I release the Snitch I caught and let it fly off.

My stomach turns as I see Victoire throw a flirty little wave to Fletcher, but I take a breath and return my focus to finding the snitch. I'm going to just have to blow her and everyone else here out of the water if I have even a ghost of a chance of making onto the team this year.

A few minutes later, raucous cheering from the other end of the pitch diverts my attention again. Victoire managed to catch one of the Snitches.

Not good. I have to step it up.

I fly faster over the pitch, carefully scanning every possible inch for the Snitch.

There!

I throw myself against the handle of my broom to accelerate swiftly and pull up quickly as the Snitch flies higher into the air. It unexpectedly does a complete change of direction and, tilting myself forward into a steep dive, I follow. The floor of the pitch is rapidly approaching, but I maintain my stance. I reach forward and grasp the orb again while simultaneously pulling out of my dive with only ten yards to spare.

There are a few cheers, but not many.

Everyone is still enraptured with Victoire… including the 'effing Captain.

I feel the anger start to bubble in my stomach, but I force myself to take a breath and release the Snitch. James is still watching me determinedly from Fletcher's side. He nods to me and I nod back flying back to hover over the pitch. I fly around, searching a little desperately for another sign of the Snitch. My focus hasn't returned.

Five minutes later, Fletcher's whistle sounds and he motions for all the people at the trials to join him at the center of the pitch.

I land lightly next to James and he gives me a big smile and a hug. "You did excellent, Mer. Really, excellent. Fletcher will have to be an idiot to pass you up for Seeker."

I throw him a grateful look and turn towards Fletcher. Victoire is standing near him and the look on Fletcher's face tells me that he is quite aware of it. My heart sinks and I say, "Then I don't have much of a chance do I?"

Before James can respond, Roger, Phillip, and Fred race up to us and thump me roughly on the back with huge smiles on their face. Their words are jumbled, but, all the same, I really appreciate their support.

"That was amazing!"

"You caught that first Snitch in, like, a minute!"

"Where did you learn to do dives like that? I don't think anyone else could have pulled off that last one even half as well."

"You're in for sure."

"Gryffindor is definitely going to be the House Cup Champions this year!"

The large crowd of students is suddenly silenced by Fletcher's magically magnified voice. "ATTENTION EVERYONE." All eyes are on the Captain and he removes his wand from his throat and continues. "I have made my decision on the team slots for this year. For Chaser: James will be joining me, again, this year along with Roger Thomas and Phillip Finnigan."

Phillip and Roger whoop and James gives them both high-fives. Good for them. They definitely deserve it.

Fletcher must not be so angry with James that it prevented him from putting Roger and Phillip on the House Team. Maybe I actually have a shot.

Just to Fletcher's right, Victoire flicks her long, blonde hair and smiles a brilliant, winning smile.

Then again, maybe not.

Fletcher goes on. "For Beater: Tracy Pollard will be joining me, again, as well." No surprises there. He's worked with her for three years and I doubt he would want to change that when they're so used to working with each other.

"Keeper: Fred Weasley." Again, no surprise there.

Only one position left. I grip my broom so tightly, my arms start shaking. James reaches out and rubs my back soothingly. He reaches out unexpectedly and grabs one of my hands. My surprise at his movement loosens my grip on the broom handle, otherwise, he would have not been able to pry my hand off.

He smiles at me again and gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. My racing heart slows a pace.

"For Seeker:"

My breath catches at his words. I feel the nausea wash over me and I grip James's hand tightly.

"I have chosen…"

Oh Merlin, please just say it.

Please let it be me.

"Victoire Weasley."

Loud cheers and whistles greet his announcement (mostly from the males in the crowd). My stomach has completely dropped out. All I can do is stare at the ground. My hand drops from James's and I fall weakly on my knees.

I knew it was going to end like this. I knew it from the moment Victoire stepped onto the field.

How did I ever think that I had a shot?

She outclasses me in every respect. No one wants to watch me. No one wants to recognize me for what I can do. I'm always lost behind the prettier, more-outgoing, popular people… like Victoire Weasley.

I knew I shouldn't get my hopes up.

But I wanted this so bad.

This was my chance to really fit in with my friends; to prove that I deserve to be a part of the group.

And I blew it.

My four mates haven't said anything since Fletcher's announcement. I'm glad they haven't, though. I don't want to hear their disappointment with me.

I drag myself back to my feet, using my broom for support, and avoid eye-contact with the guys around me. I can feel the stinging in my eyes and the water starting to pool and I blink determinedly to keep the tears from falling. I don't want them to see me cry.

Fred breaks the silence. "He has got to be bloody joking," he says furiously. "Victoire? Over Mer?"

My head snaps over to Fred who is glaring in the Captain's direction. He just called me Mer.

That's the first time he's called me that.

James is the only person who has ever called me that.

My eyes dart to Roger. "I can't believe it! Did he even look at anything besides Victoire's arse the whole time?" he seethes, breathing hard. "Mer is loads more qualified than _her_."

"How the hell is he Captain this year?" Phillip hisses beside Roger. "You would have to be blind to not notice how much better Mer flew, today."

The three of them are silently glaring at Fletcher and I cautiously turn towards James. His expression is positively frightening as he shoots daggers at the Quidditch Captain. He's wearing a rather obvious I-may-not-kill-him-but-I-might-maim-or-seriously-injure-him kind of look.

James takes an intentional step forward and I instinctively grab his arm. He twists to face me, his face falling to a less-semi-murderous state. James frowns. "Let me go, Mer. I need to knock some sense into him."

"No, James," I tell him. "This isn't worth the risk of getting you thrown off the team."

"But you deserve the slot!"

"He made his choice."

"I can change his mind!"

"But Victoire is still your cousin. She's family and I'm sure she would be really upset if you forced her out of a position that she won."

"But it wasn't a fair trial. No family member of mine should behave like that!"

"Behave like what? She wasn't acting any differently than she normally does." James starts to argue back, but I shake my head. "Look, James. I'll be fine. Sure, I wish I had gotten the slot, but there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Mer's right, James," Fred says behind me. "You can talk all about how irreplaceable you are, but you have to realize that you aren't the Captain and Fletcher can very well give your slot to someone else if you do anything to him."

"We'll deal with having Victoire as best we can this year," Roger says next. "But we'll just look forward to having Mer on the team for sure next year."

"We're on the team now, too, James," Phillip puts in, pointing between himself and Roger. "The three of us can focus on the offensive and even if Victoire tanks, we'll do our best to make it through. Mer will help us out and come to our practices and everything, right, Mer?"

Phillip turns to me for an answer. With every utterance of 'Mer' by my three friends, the hurt of not making the team eases and I stand, smiling, realizing that even if I'm not on the team with them, these guys are my friends. Even though I'm not Seeker this year, I still finally feel a complete part of the group.

I smile warmly at the four boys staring at me. "Thank you. All of you." James's face clears and he smiles back along with Phillip, Roger, and Fred. "And of course I'll be there to help. How else will James be able to function when he will try to make every play end with him scoring?" I look James full in the face seriously. "James, not every goal can be about you."

The five of us make our way back to the castle, conversation and laughter flowing easily between us. As I look between the four of them, I can't help but smile when I think about just how great these next three years will be.


End file.
